


derail the mind of you

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: She chokes. Remembers, forgets. “Kara Danvers."Lena closes her eyes and recalls the way she pushed back Kara like it actually happened, despite the emptiness of her office. "Kara Danvers is Supergirl."





	derail the mind of you

_ any way to distract and sedate _ _   
_ _ adding shadows to the walls of the cave _

sedated, hozier

  


į̛̱̼̮̃̐͆͘͢.

Lena blinks a couple of times, trying to get used to the feeling of the device in her eyes. Much like the contacts she wears to work, but so much heavier somehow. She can’t see anything, not yet, and it feels disorienting when she has her eyes open. Her heart races. It almost feels like being trapped in a box. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. 

“Ready,” she says softly. “Trial one of prototype D4 of L-Corp VR tech.” Letters beep in her field of vision, behind her eyelids. _ Syncing data _, it reads, the text blinking once, twice, thrice.

“Data synced,” Lena reads, louder this time. She takes a deep breath and wonders if she really is ready. 

No better way to find out than diving headfirst. Lena lets out a breath that smells of whiskey. “Run simulation in three, two, one.”

There is a soft whirring sound Lena distantly hears, then a click. She hears the familiar sound of soft murmurs, multiple televisions, typing on keyboards, and above them, a voice that used to feel like home. 

“Lena.” 

The voice is soft, surprised, and Lena makes a note about starting the simulation near doors because of course, the normal reaction to someone appearing out of nowhere is surprise. Lena swallows thickly and tells herself she shouldn't feel too much. This isn't real, after all. Still, she can't help the racing of her heart, the anger, the ache. 

Lena finally opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is Kara Danvers, smiling that warm smile despite the confused furrow in her eyebrow, like there is nothing wrong in the world. Lena figures there _ is _ nothing wrong with hers; all of it is in Lena's. 

"Kara." Lena forces a smile. She looks around. The rendering of CatCo seems close enough to her reality, which is good. She looks at the far end of the office, the farthest she can see, and consolidates it with her memory. Everything looks on-point so far.

"Everything okay?" Kara interrupts, her voice soft, and Lena turns to her. It's confusing, to say the least. On one hand, she wants to applaud herself for the realness this simulation has this time, where her best friend stands in front of her like she is made of reality and flesh. The first few trials weren't as good. This just might be the sweet spot.

On the other hand, and despite the way she forced herself to be rational and purely logical, she can't help if it hurts. This Kara is looking at her the same way the old Kara looked at her, all hope and happiness and warmth, but it just feels like alcohol on a still bleeding cut.

Belatedly, Lena realizes it isn't Kara's fault, not this Kara or the Kara in the real world. What changed was the way Lena looked at her. Lena used to look at her like she is the center of the universe, and in a way she was; before Kara, Lena had no one—everyone else either looked at her like they were waiting for the day she would turn evil like her brother, and those who don't just didn't care. Kara was a breath of fresh air. She single-handedly gave Lena hope that the way she kept fighting to be _ good _ was enough. 

Until, of course, she too destroyed everything Lena held onto. Lena acknowledges that it must have been inevitable, because no one can really be associated with her without _ everything _ being taken away: Jack. Sam. Adam. It’s a curse. It might have taken a while, but of course, she had to lose Kara too. 

"Lena," Kara says again. Lena feels a soft, warm hand on her cheek, a thumb against her skin wiping tears she didn't notice. Lena flinches and steps back like she is burned; she looks at Kara, anger in green eyes, and she doesn't miss the _ pain _in Kara's. Like she cares. 

"End simulation," Lena practically spits. 

There is the distant whirring sound again before everything turns to black, before fading into the familiar static whiteness of her L-Corp office. Blurred, however, and only then does she realize she is indeed crying. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood and carefully removes the device from her eyes, placing them in their dock with a harsh breath. She means to reach out for her recorder to note her findings, as with every good researcher, but she can't. She falls to her knees on the floor and cries quietly, as if the entire floor isn't empty save for her. The clock reads 4:08 AM. 

'.̭̦̼̖̬̽̾͗͘͡.̣̎

Lena doesn't run that same simulation the next day, nor the next. Instead, she runs others—a meeting which she duplicates in reality successfully, a concert she missed back in college, even a memory of that last day with Jack before she moved to National City just to see what would have happened if she stayed. 

She runs the simulation with Kara two weeks later, when she deemed herself strong enough to keep herself together, at least this time around. Whiskey in her coffee keeps her easy, though sometimes she skips the coffee altogether. She hasn't slept in weeks, and it's two in the morning when she sits on her office couch before putting on the device. 

This time, the simulation takes her to Kara's apartment, on the blonde's couch, some Disney movie they watched before playing on the TV. Indeed, the rendering of the virtual reality these past few runs have been impeccable. 

Kara walks into her field of vision, paper bag in her arms, that same sunny smile on her face. Lena hasn't seen her in two weeks, not in this virtual world and not in the real one, but in a heartbeat, Lena feels anger and pain bubble in her as a bitter taste settles on her tongue. 

"I got our usual," Kara says as she peers into the paper bag, like she always does when they have food delivered, but her smile fades when she looks up at Lena. "Hey. You okay?" 

Lena clenches her fists. No, she isn't okay, she hasn't been okay in weeks. She takes a sharp breath. "I know you're lying to me," she says—straight to the point, because there is no sense in beating around the bush even if she knew she can rerun this exact scenario on a whim. She _ can, _technically, but she fears her heart can’t take it; especially when there is a flicker of fear and worry in Kara's face before she tries to mask it away with a nervous smile. 

"What- what do you mean, Lena?" Kara replies, fiddling with her glasses, and Lena remembers a specific memory: Her first day at CatCo. Kara welcomed her then, sure, but afterwards she had been busy in the guise of work despite things Lena had asked her to do. When Lena had the chance to sit down with her, concerned, there was the same worry and fear in Kara's face before she snapped at Lena, saying _ it's personal. _

And Lena wants to cry again, because _ fuck, _Kara has been lying to her all this time. Lena had seen the signs, of course, but denied each and every one of them like Lex said, because Kara is her best friend. She trusted Kara with all of her, worried herself to the bone that she isn't trustworthy enough for someone like Kara that it didn't occur to her for a second that Kara might just be lying. That Kara's sister and all her friends might just be lying, too. 

Lena stands from the couch and gets into Kara's personal space, the paper bag of delicious-smelling Chinese food between them. "You know what I mean, Supergirl," she says, then brushes against Kara angrily before stepping away.

"End simulation," Lena says, voice breaking, but she doesn't crumple and cry this time when she returns to her reality. She grabs the recorder from her desk.

With a sharp breath, she hits record. "Visual rendering is at a hundred percent. Sensory input is also better compared to last simulation with- with Jack. Emotional output of virtual subjects also—" She clenches her fists. "Emotional output is at a hundred percent based on information uploaded and synced to system, but will need to update simulation response of subject—” She chokes. Remembers, forgets. “Kara Danvers." 

Lena closes her eyes and recalls the way she pushed back Kara like it actually happened, despite the emptiness of her office. "Kara Danvers is Supergirl,” she continues. “Not human, and her reactions should be that of a Kryptonian." She pauses as she remembers Kara's supposed allergic reactions that time Mercy Graves attacked L-Corp. She laughs, bitter and pained, and hates that she has to remember.

"End of trial 32," she records through gritted teeth, and heads to her refreshment table to empty her bottle of whiskey. 

'̢̡͌̍̽͟.̬́.̡͉̹̲͙̒̍̄̍͞`̛͔̭͎̰͛͛͂̈́͜

She manages to have a conversation with Kara after another week, at least in the simulation. She's still angry and she wants to think she has a right to be, but Kara—the real Kara—finally stopped letting her have her space and came to her office. Thankfully, Lena had been down at the labs, and Jess had managed to send Kara home. 

"You know,” Lena begins as she looks down at the burger in her hands. It’s annoying how letting her own algorithm decide which situation to run hurts. It shouldn’t, right? It’s nothing short of fiction. The red and yellow of Big Belly Burger wrapper stares back at her. She thinks of the nights, once upon a time. She looks at Kara, sitting beside her and munching away on her own burger. “I miss you."

Kara’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. She chews faster, swallows, and when she smiles at Lena, it almost feels like home. 

"I'm right here," Kara says with a soft laugh. 

It also feels like whiskey to her throat, like salt on a fresh wound. “I know,” Lena sighs. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears. For a second she wonders if Kara can hear, but her awareness of the simulation catches up and she wants to throw up. 

Kara seems to sense her anxiety—her algorithm predicts it, a voice in the back of her mind says—and the blonde reaches to put a firm hand on her knee. Her touch is warm, and it grounds Lena to the moment. She stares at the hand and looks up at Kara; her eyes, bright and blue, are laced with worry she has seen in _ her _ Kara before. 

It hits Lena like a punch in the gut. No matter how aware she is of this simulation, no matter how unreal she thinks it is, all this, _ Kara, _is based on her actual memories—of Kara, of how Kara has become her anchor and her source of strength, and Lena realizes with startling clarity that, despite her anger, she can't actually live a life without Kara. She has managed to last all of three weeks, but with work and whiskey driving her to the edge of her sanity, Lena isn’t sure one could call that a life.

She wonders why Kara came to her office. There is hope that flickers in her chest, telling her it’s because Kara wanted to come clean, but it’s stomped by Lex’s voice—_ you’re left with no one, and nothing _—until all Lena can think about is why Kara had taken her this long to come clean, and why she ever will. 

She looks longingly at Kara’s hand on her thigh, then meets worried blue eyes. "I realized that whatever simulation I run here, I can actually never know how you will tell me you're Supergirl.” 

Kara’s eyes widen a fraction, like that one time during Lena’s first day at CatCo. Like she was caught lying. Lex was right, after all. Denial is a very powerful thing. Lena hates it, hates him, hates everything. “I'm not even sure you ever will." 

“Lena—”

"End simulation," Lena whispers, and Kara disappears but leaves the sensation of warmth on Lena’s knee where her hand had been, even when Lena tells herself it isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t real. She cries, the warmth gone cold. 

Lena doesn't record anything this time. 

'̚͢.̨̹̙̰̌͑̐̂.̪͉̗̰̓̾̋͞`͇̊*̥̾

Lena is exhausted, tired to the bone, but after her last meeting that ran late, she reaches for the device that she has been perfecting the past weeks. It should be ready for trials at this point, and yet, Lena can’t find it in her to send it to her employees for further testing. 

After all, it’s only how she manages to see Kara these days. That, and the occasional news she sees of Supergirl yet again saving the city or the other. 

The simulation takes her to the L-Corp balcony this time, two fingers of whiskey in her glass, wind in her hair. Kara is mid-story beside her, laughter in her voice. Warmth fills Lena before cold dread takes over. She looks out to the city, distant and quiet. She remembers falling off this same balcony, remembers Supergirl catching her just in time, remembers her saying she was having coffee with Kara Danvers. 

_ Lucky. _

The ache in her chest burns, like she just downed the amber liquid in her glass. She swallows the lump in her throat. "If I jump off a building,” she begins, soft voice cutting through Kara’s story. “Will you catch me?" 

Kara blinks and answers without hesitation. "Of course." 

Lena turns to her. She wants to think she looks serious, but she feels the sting of tears in her eyes and she hates herself. “Then we'd both die,” she says, and Kara’s reaction is to lean closer as if to stop her from _ actually _jumping. 

Not like Lena hasn’t thought of that before, really. Dying is easy, after all.

“Lena,” Kara whispers, and the worry in her voice is an anchor and a knife that drives deep into Lena’s chest. “Are- Is everything okay? What are you—" 

"Will you ever tell me you're Supergirl?" Lena interrupts again. She wonders if she deserves the knowledge of it, if she deserves that trust; she hopes she does. All her hard work, and what for, if not the validation of the city’s beacon of hope, help, and compassion?

"I- Lena—" 

Kara opens and closes her mouth, a fish out of water, truth far away from her lips. Lena scoffs and drinks her whiskey—it’s beautiful, how her technology fires away at her neurons, that delicious burning of the alcohol down her throat so _ real _even if all of this is nothing but an inch away from a lucid dream.

She wonders how long it would take to create a technology where she could delete memories—they are so fragile, after all, that one could easily burn them away like bridges. She’d forget. It wouldn’t matter. 

"End simulation,” Lena says, and she sinks into darkness.

'̭͕͓̘̍͌̄̒.̠̥̦̉̅̇.͆͜`̱͌*̫͕̰̓̉̆̕͢.͉͐.̢̡̡̮̌̍̌͘ 

She’s in a memory. Her algorithm seems to be fucking with her. Lena is sitting on her couch, strawberry donut in hand, and is hit with déjà vu. It takes a full second before she hears Kara’s voice come through.

“Hey,” Kara says softly. Lena turns to her. She’s holding a half-eaten honey-glazed donut, worry in her eyes. “You okay?”

Lena wants to cry, yet again. She hates that she has been crying more now—in the dead of the night, sure, but it’s more often than she would like, as if the walls she had built for years and years had vanished and she’s defenseless and vulnerable in the cold wilderness. 

“You haven’t touched your donut,” Kara continues with a soft smile. “You said you eat donuts.” There’s teasing in her voice, like once upon a time. Back when they were friends—not a lot of complications. Lex’s voice returns. _ She’s been lying to you. All this time. All of them. Liars. _

It’s a shock to her system. She wonders if she would’ve reacted like this if Kara had told her sooner. She wonders if she wouldn’t have minded not knowing at all. They were friends, right? No longer now—Lena isn’t sure what they are now, but the ball is in her court, wasn’t it?

“I think I could’ve fallen in love with you, you know.” 

She doesn’t even realize she said it. She looks down at her donut. Lena laughs softly to herself, even if she can feel Kara’s eyes on her, panicked and worried. 

It isn’t surprising, how she knows, but it also feels odd. All this is based from memory and predictions, and despite how brilliant her technology is, it isn’t _ accurate _ because it isn’t _ real. _ And she might never know. But there could be simulations Lena can run where the way Kara looks at Lena would be something more, something better—perhaps she would look at Lena with hope, with _ love _—but Lena doesn’t have enough information to base a simulation for that. Sure, the theory of parallel universes say there is at least one reality out there where her Kara Danvers loves her, but why subject herself to more pain when her very own version of Kara has already done that perfectly?

It’s the same way she hopes there is a Kara Danvers out there who didn’t lie to their Lena Luthor. Surely there is, right?

Lena ends the simulation before Kara can say anything, because real or otherwise, it _ hurts. _

'̯̀.̫͋.͉͑`̡͇̱̎̐̍̈͢*̙̏̆͢.̻̪̫͚̝̄̅̾̓͞.͇̪͇̀͆͒̕͟"̺̽

When the simulation begins, Lena finds herself in her office. It’s empty. The city outside buzzes with the noise of the evening, the sky dark and cloudy. The lights are off save for the lamp on her desk, and for a second, she wonders if she input something wrong before going in. 

That is, until she looks to the couch and finds Kara curled up and snoring away. Another memory; she remembers calling Kara for a raincheck of their dinner because of an emergency meeting. Kara insisted coming over anyway, with a promise of waiting for Lena and of takeout, because she said she knew Lena would skip dinner if she didn’t. The meeting ran past eleven and Lena assumed Kara would be home, but she had waited. She had waited for Lena, like she promised she would. 

“I miss you,” Lena whispers to Kara’s sleeping form. She may not be real, but Lena does miss her. There’s a constant ache in her chest that whiskey can’t burn away, a hollowness that continuously grows that work can’t distract her from. 

Before she could stop herself, before she could even realize it, Lena is bursting into tears. Kara immediately wakes up, panic and fear in her eyes like Lena crying is the worst that could happen. She finds Lena in a heartbeat like she is her true North, but before Kara could get up, Lena is shutting the simulation down.

“I can’t do this anymore, Kara,” she whispers to the darkness of her empty office. The couch is empty too, the room dark and cold like it had been for the past few weeks, but she could still imagine the worry in Kara’s eyes just seconds ago like it’s her only truth and Lena breaks. 

'̯̆̀͜.͚̦͈̇̊͞.̢͍͍̘̀́̿̕`͍̀*̦̣͒̏.͇̖́͠.̡͔̆̀"͈̭̍͡-̝͖͚͗̀̃̎͟

Kara is in her office when she arrives. It's jarring, given how used Lena is to her virtual reality these days. 

"We need to talk,” Kara says. Her voice is firm but Lena senses an edge to it, though she isn’t entirely sure. After all, she doesn’t know Kara like she thought she did. 

"I'm busy, Kara,” Lena says, her gaze returning to the papers she is working on even as her grip on her pen tightens. 

"I know,” Kara says, something akin to defeat in her voice. Like she expected this. “I just- I miss you, and—" Kara takes a sharp breath. "I need to tell you something." 

Lena pauses at that. She doesn’t look up though, but she sees Kara in her periphery, shuffling with unease. Lena quirks up an eyebrow and finally puts down her pen when she realizes Kara isn’t budging. When she meets blue eyes, they are gray with storm clouds. The words are out of Kara’s lips before Lena can ask for them. 

"I'm Supergirl." 

And despite how many simulations Lena had run, despite how she had expected this, it still takes her by surprise. Kara’s words drive home the fact that Lex is right, Kara and her friends had lied to Lena for so long—despite all the supposed good things she had tried to do. This is reality coming down and she has no escape—no magic words to stop whatever is happening, because all Lena can really do is _ live it. _

“I know," Lena says, and Kara freezes. "I've known for a while. I've been waiting for you to come clean." 

Hope vanishes from Kara's face. A part of Lena wants to feel victory for it, but all she feels is loss. Mighty, unrelenting loss because now, both of them are hurt.

Kara tries to hide her reaction but fails. "How did you—" 

“Not from you, that's for sure,” Lena says with a scoff. 

“Lena. I just. Please,” Kara tries. There is desperation in her eyes that Lena wants to feel some sort of self-satisfaction for it but she can’t. She just wants this to end, wants to curl up on her office couch until she’s managed to stop crying. Except, it seems like it’s Kara who’s about to cry. “I- I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to tell you a couple of times now but I just— I was scared.”

“Scared?” Lena laughs sharply, mirthlessly. She wants to run. “Of what? That I’ll try to hurt you?”

“I- No! I’m scared that _ I’ll _hurt you,” Kara shuts her mouth and Lena sees the shimmer of threatening tears in her eyes; Lena feels like she is about to cry herself, but she manages to keep it together. “That I- That I’d lose you,” Kara continues.

Lena snaps. “It’s a little too late for that now, don’t you think?”

“I know,” Kara says. Her voice is soft. Here is the Girl of Steel, breaking. Lex would be proud of Lena. “But… But I owe it to you, at the very least.” 

“How considerate of you.” 

There is a moment of silence between them: Kara is shifting where she stands and looking so uneasy it’s difficult to think of her as the powerful Maiden of Might, while Lena feels the burn of tears in her eyes. She takes a shuddering breath.

_ End the simulation. End the simulation. _

Still, Lena wants to know. She will give it to Kara, for her peace of mind, if it ever comes to that. For Lena’s own, if she can still know peace. For the truth, once and for all. 

When Kara collects her bearings—when she realizes, at least, that Lena isn’t throwing her out of her office—the blonde continues. “I know I hurt you, Lena,” she begins, and Lena feels the first hot tear slide down her cheek. Kara swallows like she feels the weight of it. “And I know I can never get back your trust, nor our friendship, but I want you to know that I _ am _so very sorry. I only did it because, well, because I had to, back then, and then it became a matter of protecting you.”

Lena remembers Metallo, on the verge of explosion. She doesn’t remember how she survives, but remembers Supergirl’s firm _ Kara Danvers believes in you _. 

“Even when I realized you could take care of yourself, I kept it a secret because— because you’re the only person I have. As Kara Danvers.” Kara pauses and laughs humorlessly, wipes her cheeks with the back of her hands and Lena realizes she is crying, too. “Everyone else, everyone else knows, and I know that sounds like betrayal but it’s just _ lonely _. They know me as someone else and see me as someone else but you just saw me as Kara.”

Lena remembers: Trying to protect Kara from Mercy. Trying to pull Kara out from her shell, after the loss of Mike. Trying to be the one person who Kara can rely on the most, because Lena Luthor, despite all odds, was Kara’s best friend.

“The Kara who’s always hungry and loves Disney and is afraid of closed spaces. And I know I can never have you back, not after what I’ve done, but I- I wanted to take the chance.” Kara meets Lena’s eyes. “No matter how small. No matter how futile.” 

Lena had stood strong, hasn’t she? She has braved the aftermath of Lex revealing her best friend’s deepest secret, brought wine and so boldly told Kara _ always _ when the blonde had asked _ you’re with me, right? _Because when it came to personal relationships, Lena had always learned to give, for taking is a crime: Gave Lillian her entire childhood, lost her when she dared take her own path; gave Lex the support he needed, and lost her when she decided he was wrong; gave Jack her warmest love, and lost him when she decided to be selfish; gave Eve her unwavering trust, and lost the battle because Lena Luthor can never trust anyone. 

There’s fear in Kara’s eyes, like losing Lena is the worst that could happen. 

Lena forgets.

“I think I could’ve fallen in love with you, you know.” Lena laughs softly to herself and looks out the glass windows. National City is dark and cloudy. Lena can feel Kara’s eyes on her, panicked and worried, but she keeps her eyes on the memory of stars on the sky. She takes a deep breath and musters the strength to speak words she hasn’t exactly fully-thought through, but had thought about enough times in the many simulations she ran. “Either way, I think I love you enough that at the end of the day, at the end of everything, I would still choose to have you in my life.” She feels exhausted. “However sad it sounds, you _ are _my world, Kara. And I want to be angry at you, and I want to think that’s my right as much as it was yours to keep secrets from me. Such is life, I suppose.” 

Lena finally turns to Kara again. The blonde is crying, and Lena wants to run to her, into her arms, to assure her that this isn’t the end, but she stays seated. 

“So please let me be angry for a little while longer, but we’ll be fine, I think.” Lena sighs and smiles sadly at Kara. “I always choose you, in the end. But for now I’d like to choose myself.”

'̨̳̮̻̗͑̎͑̃͞.̟̍.̡̬͠͝ `*̠̝͗̊.̛̝.̢̨̝͙͉̔̐̓̾̓"̋͟-̧̟̦̝͊̊͝͡;̝̓ 

She’s drinking whiskey at her office balcony and letting the white noise of the city below wash away her exhaustion for the day. Come to think of it, Lena isn’t sure when she last got a good night’s sleep that isn’t from alcohol or sleeping pills, or one that had her waking up refreshed the morning after. That is if she even fell asleep at all. 

It has been a couple of days since Kara’s visit. Lena wonders if it did happen, or if it was a simulation or perhaps, a fever dream. She tries not to dwell on it. 

A blur of red and blue enters her vision. Supergirl clears her throat and floats just across Lena. She notices the bangs first. 

“You cut your hair,” Lena says, surprising both of them. She silences herself by sipping her drink. Supergirl laughs nervously and plays with her hair, then scratches the corner of her eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Supergirl shrugs. “Felt like I needed a change. Or something.”

Lena nods. She looks down at her glass, now empty. There’s silence between them save for the sounds of the city and the billowing of the heroine’s cape. She hears Supergirl sigh—a heavy sound that says she regrets her decision to drop by. 

“I should—”

“I miss you,” Lena says. Supergirl almost drops out of the sky. “Well, not you,” Lena corrects, and when she drags her gaze from her glass to the blonde, there’s heartbreak on her face. Lena bites her lip and carries on. “I miss you, Kara.” 

“I miss you too, Lena.” A sigh, the sound so heavy Lena feels the weight crush her chest. “I miss you so much.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you ever apologize for taking your time,” Kara interrupts. She floats closer to Lena, her hands just hovering above the railing of the balcony. “I took mine on telling you.”

It’s understanding, Lena likes to think. With all the cards laid bare between them, all they can really do is slowly build back up their relationship—a blank slate, perhaps, or a house of cards so fragile it won’t survive another heavy blow. 

But this is a start as good as any. 

Lena takes a deep breath. “I think I’m okay now. Maybe…” She shrugs, fidgets with her glass, and Kara hangs on by a thread. “Maybe some burger and potstickers tomorrow night? My treat.”

“Okay,” Kara answers quickly and smiles, the sun and moon and stars in her eyes, and Lena feels all the madness in the world melt away. “I’ll wait for you.”

;̘̝̓̾'.̡̣̽̓.͎̲̣̲̒̇̈́͡`̛͚̬̹̊̀*̞͚͕̈̀͝..̙̖͌̕"͚̹͔̠͆̀̿̃-;͕͖̱̈́͌̓

Kara is waiting in her office when she arrives fresh from the labs, the virtual reality simulator finally off her hands for her team’s exploration. 

“You’re here,” is Lena’s greeting. The surprise in her voice makes Kara panic. 

Kara fidgets. “Yeah…? Um. If you’re still up for that dinner?” She lifts a paper bag in her arms. It’s familiar. Warm. It almost feels like coming home, after a long time away. “I know you said it’s your treat, but I… It was on the way, when I, you know, so I hope you don’t mind that I got— you know what, I wasn’t even sure if you’re already free so I can go if you want but- but I— I’d love to stay if you let me.”

The nervousness in her voice is adorable. It sounded like the way they started, a friendship of awkwardness, and the familiar steps into this dance makes Lena hope they will eventually find their rhythm. Again. 

“Dinner would be nice,” Lena says softly, smiling and gesturing for Kara to take the couch. “How… how have you been?”

◦◦

Lena wakes up to warmth around her. She blinks and shifts in surprise, until she turns her head slightly to find Kara behind her—spooning her, arms wrapped around Lena’s body almost protectively. Lena swallows thickly. She feels oddly refreshed like she hasn’t felt in weeks. It’s… comforting. Kara is here, with her. 

Cold dread sinks in a moment. She places her hand on Kara’s near her stomach and holds on to it tightly. The slightest of pressure seems to wake Kara up; the blonde squeezes her hand back and hums. 

Lena takes a shuddering breath.

“End simulation.” 

x  


_ you've done me wrong for a long, long time _ _   
_ _ but after all you've done i never changed my mind _

my love will never die, hozier

  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Always](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994278) by [marvelousbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelousbones/pseuds/marvelousbones)


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